


Miriel's Experiment

by IChallengeMyFate (Ealdremen)



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealdremen/pseuds/IChallengeMyFate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miriel has a new experiment underway, and Lon’qu, apparently her test subject, is trying to figure out its purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miriel's Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on ichallengemyfate.tumblr.com.

Lon’qu awoke with the sheets tucked so tightly around him that he could scarcely breathe. Grunting in pain, he forced the sheets off himself, which was a great struggle given his body’s fatigue, and staggered out of bed. His feet hit the cold wooden floor, and he groaned as he glanced out the window. It was barely light outside, but he could hear the crackle of a fire going. Rubbing his face with his hands, Lon’qu let out a groan. Already he knew that this was another one of Miriel’s experiments. Ever since they had taken up temporary residence in this forest cabin (as much for privacy as to prevent innocent bystanders from becoming unwitting test subjects), Lon’qu had been witness to more and more odd, eccentric experiments.

Figuring he’d best make sure she wasn’t going to hurt herself in the name of science, Lon’qu dressed himself and haphazardly patted down his messy hair to look somewhat presentable, and he wandered outside. Much to his surprise, Miriel wasn’t throwing random objects into the fire to judge their flammability or testing her pain threshold in regards to burning. Rather, it looked like she was cooking something over the fire in a huge black pot, occasionally stirring.

Miriel turned, apparently having heard him arrive. “Good morning, Lon’qu.”

Dozens of questions leaped to mind, but he wasn’t sure how to word them in a way that wouldn’t result in her admonishing him for asking something with an obvious answer, such as what she was doing or if she knew how early in the morning it was.

“…Good morning,” Lon’qu finally managed. Choosing his words carefully, he asked, “Is this… another experiment?”

If it was, it was by far the most unusual experiment Miriel had ever done, considering how _normal_ it looked. There wasn’t a stack of books on some obscure subject sitting at the stone table out here, nor was there any signs that she had done anything bizarre with the pot to increase its heating efficiency or something of the sort.

“Indeed it is. However, I’m afraid your inquiries must terminate there. Would you care for breakfast now?”

Lon’qu half-expected her to launch into a discussion about the etymology of “breakfast,” or for her to wonder if it was breakfast if one wasn’t breaking a fast, but she stayed unusually quiet. He raised a brow, waiting for her to go on, but she seemed to be waiting for _him_ to do or say something. There was an expectant look in her eyes. Almost hesitantly, he sniffed the air. To his surprise, the aroma was pleasant, nothing at all like the strange concoctions Miriel sometimes brewed in the night in the name of science.

“Is that… cabbage stew..?” Lon’qu was certain he could smell beef and cabbage cooking in the pot.

Miriel adjusted her glasses, a small but proud smile forming on her face. “An apt observation. Your olfactory senses do not diminish even when you are beset with fatigue.”

She started to write something down in a leather-bound journal of some kind, her hand working furiously to scrawl out what he could only assume was notes on what he had just done and said. Lon’qu frowned.

“Are you experimenting on _me?_ ” The idea of Miriel recording his reactions to “stimuli” was unsettling, to say the least. The last thing he needed was for an embarrassing reaction to be recorded in meticulous detail.

She closed the book with a light thump and placed it on the stone table. With her hands now free, Miriel dipped the ladle into the stew and started to serve it into a small bowl, careful to avoid letting any drip onto the ground.

“I wouldn’t say that is an entirely accurate assessment,” Miriel said as she deposited more of the broth into the bowl. “People are notoriously difficult to observe, especially when they know they are being observed. It throws too many variables into the mix and confounds the results.”

Once it was filled, she handed the steaming bowl to Lon’qu. Warily, as if it would explode, he took it, mumbling a quick thanks. Somewhat to his surprise, the stew looked good up close. There seemed to be just enough cabbage, along with finely diced carrots and chunks of beef. It almost looked… _normal._ Just how long had Miriel taken to prepare this? He shook off the thought, reminding himself that Miriel never did anything halfway when it came to science… or anything, really.

“Right.” He glanced around. “Are there any spoons out here?”

Miriel blinked in surprise. “Of course. What manner of imbecile would prepare a meal and not have any utensils? I procured them in advance.”

Lon’qu noticed the silverware laying on a cloth for the first time. Trying not to seem bothered by Miriel’s watching of him, he sat down and started to eat. The stew tasted as good as it looked; the meat wasn’t too tough, it wasn’t so overcooked that the cabbage had become nothing but tasteless leaves… But he could still see out of the corner of his eye Miriel taking notes on him. What could her experiment be this time? Was it a cooking one? Testing out different combinations of ingredients for cabbage stew? No, Lon’qu couldn’t imagine beef to cabbage ratios in a stew piquing Miriel’s interest at all. Normally she observed some unusual phenomenon, like the body’s responses to danger. Cooking just wasn’t like her at all.

And yet here he was, eating a delicious stew she had gotten up early to make for him.

Once he finished, Miriel insisted on taking his pulse, jotting down the results in her book. Lon’qu was tempted to look over her shoulder to see what she was writing about him, but he knew that potentially disrupting Miriel’s experiment would be catastrophic at best.

“I also find it prudent to mention that I organized your practice swords by the durability of their components,” Miriel said without looking up from her notes.

“You… what?” Lon’qu asked, baffled. “I thought you didn’t care about swords.”

The last time they had even discussed Lon’qu’s array of blades – both wooden and steel – was when Miriel had been upset at how lopsided they were on the rack. Since then, as far as Lon’qu knew, she hadn’t even looked at them.

“It was a most edifying examination. The red oak blades seemed to be of finer make than the ones made of hickory. One hickory sword in particular had a rupture down its side. I disposed of that one. It was the worst blade I have scrutinized in a while.”

Knowing exactly which practice sword she was talking about, Lon’qu eyed her. “I made that one.”

Her writing stopped, and the only sound between them was the morning chorus of birds and the crackling of the fire. Miriel cleared her throat and closed the book again.

“I have just recalled that I have another experiment that requires my presence.” She stood up.

Lon’qu shrugged. “Go ahead. Thanks again for the stew.”

As she departed back into the cabin, Lon’qu looked from her and then back to the pot. His brow furrowed, and his fingers drummed against the cold stone of the table. He caught sight of the journal that Miriel had left behind. Craning his head to make sure Miriel wasn’t watching him, just in case the experiment was to see how well he could resist the temptation of snooping, he flipped the book open. After reading through its contents, Lon’qu smirked.

“She could have just _said_ so.” He put the lid on the pot and quickly extinguished the fire with the bucket of water nearby (of course Miriel had prepared one in advance). Double-checking that there weren’t any sparks that could reignite in his absence, Lon’qu set off in a brisk jog in the crisp morning air.

* * *

 

Miriel stumbled through the woods, cursing her negligence all the way. She should have taken Lon’qu’s feelings about that sword before getting rid of it; she ought to have considered that he had his own reasons for keeping such a seemingly worthless blade. After an hour of searching, Miriel found the practice sword where she had thrown it away, nestled among wet fallen leaves. Fortunately for her, the wooden blade didn’t appear anymore damaged than it already was. Delicately, she picked it up off the ground and touched the inside of where the split was, flinching at the roughness of it.

“Such a grievous oversight,” Miriel muttered to herself. “A terrible miscalculation – an error like this could throw the whole experiment awry!”

She grumbled to herself as she returned to the cabin, leaves sticking to her boots and twigs protruding from her red hair. On her return, she found that the fire was already put out, the cauldron the stew had been in removed, presumably brought back into the house. Miriel let out a sigh. Perhaps her experiment had been a failure, after all. She laid the wooden sword on the table, unsure of what to do with it now.

“Miriel?” Miriel turned, spotting Lon’qu standing in the doorway of their cabin home, a bouquet of roses clasped in his hands.

“Lon’qu, I presume you–”

He coughed, his face starting to turn red. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

Deciding it would be best to see where this turn of events led her, Miriel stayed quiet and gestured for Lon’qu to continue. Hesitantly, he approached her until they were about arm’s length away. He ran a hand through his messy black hair and held out the bouquet, not meeting her gaze. Miriel looked from the flowers and then back to him, not sure what he was trying to do. He let out a sigh.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t remember it was our anniversary. You didn’t have to do all this.” Lon’qu flicked his arm slightly, drawing her attention to the flowers again. “Take the flowers! They’re for you!”

“Ah, my apologies,” Miriel said.

She took the bouquet from him, still uncertain of the significance. Was this for a new experiment? Even uncertain of what these flowers were for, that Lon’qu had gotten these for her made her feel that indescribable rush of emotions.

“No, I…” Lon’qu groaned, and he finally looked her in the eye. “Look, Miriel, I didn’t really care about that sword. It’s worthless.”

“I conjecture that any emotional attachment you have to it would render it of value,” Miriel protested. “Even if I find it to be of no visible value, you clearly put stock into its existence.”

Lon’qu shook his head. “Let me finish here! Ugh, gods, this is harder than I thought…”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the words seemed to die before they could leave his mouth. With a resigned sigh, he started to pull twigs out of her hair and straighten out her clothes. Every touch sent her heart racing faster and faster until she was sure that her face was as red as Lon’qu’s.

“The sword is worthless. You’re more important. _Much_ more important.” There was an air of finality in what he said, and Miriel could tell he wasn’t going to say anymore.

Still, she smiled; he had been specific enough that she could draw her own conclusions. “So these specimens of flowers were your chosen method of demonstrating your feelings?”

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Miriel placed the flowers by the wooden sword. Even if this hadn’t quite been how she expected the experiment to end, she _had_ gotten the results she needed, in a way.

“Fascinating… I believe we were both in error in assuming that we each needed to go out of our respective ways to–” Before she could finish, Miriel found herself in Lon’qu’s arms, almost lifted off her feet, her face close to her husband’s. She could feel his heart racing uncontrollably, and Miriel could hear his breath hitch in his throat.

“You… talk too much.” He hesitantly started to lower his mouth towards hers, but seemed to start to lose his nerve, his body starting to tremble. His heart was beating even faster as fear overtook him. Realizing his intentions, Miriel lifted her head to close the gap; their lips met, and Lon’qu gratefully returned the kiss.


End file.
